Rolling a One (1) on Seduction
by VoidRealmer
Summary: A man hiding behind a dumpster watches a young woman try to seduce the Back-Alley Murderer. It doesn't work, surprisingly. The man watches another girl, this one much younger with bright blonde hair, try to seduce the Back-Alley Murderer only moments later. It.. works? Wait, what?


**Nyello. I have returned. With a new story. That I wrote in like, 3 hours. During school.**

**Okay so this entire thing is trash. There's no other word for it. This is pure trash. But I've had this idea stuck in my head for days now and it wasn't going away so I wrote it.**

**So, yeah. Here's this thing. (Also, there's a CHANCE there MIGHT be a chapter 2. I have no clue. But for now it's a one-shot.)**

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_Shoot shoot shoot shoot- Hide! Gotta hide!_

The young man dived behind a large dumpster, easily hidden from plain view. He crawled even further, trying to make himself almost disappear, on the off chance (or was it really that low) that somebody would look behind it. Once he'd quietly moved out of plain sight, he took the chance to breathe, finally catching his breath for the first time in minutes, but what felt closer to hours.

This is what he gets for trying to take a shortcut home. He didn't want to deal with the crowd on the streets, so he'd thought he could just slip through the alleys real quick—he'd done it a couple times before, so he knew where he was going, and he knew not to stay in them very long, no matter how safe it may seem.

Today, however, wasn't one of those lucky days where he can just slip through in a matter of minutes. He'd heard a deep, gravelly voice around the corner of a bend, and immediately knew that if he didn't hide, he'd be killed immediately. He didn't bother to check what they looked like, what they'd said, or even to call the police. There was no running if a killer spots you. You'd die. The police would arrive much too late to do anything.

So, that's how he ended up in this position. Hidden behind a dumpster in the alleys from an unseen, but definitely dangerous, threat. Fortunately, or most likely, _not_, there was a small crack between the dumpster, just thick enough for him to see through without anybody noticing him. So, what else was there to do but look through it?

He didn't have to wait long for anything to happen. Not even five minutes later, a young woman, probably around the same age as him, came stumbling into the alley. She seemed to realize the offputting mood, the slight tension in the air that something _bad_ is going to happen, judging from the stiffness in her shoulders and how her eyes would dark around everywhere, watching for any sign of movement. But never behind her. Looking behind you meant certain death.

He didn't know if the woman knew her way around the alley, but the nearest exit was at least two more turns and a decent path—more than enough time for a killer to strike and leave before anyone would even know.

And then he heard it.

Whistling.

It wasn't any song that he recognized, but it didn't stop the fact that their dread had just increased tenfold. Whoever was whistling, they were _dangerous._ He didn't know how he knew, but he _knew._ His gut was twisting and turning, and he feared he was going to throw up, which would incidentally make a lot of sound and probably sentence him to death.

The woman froze. Whether it was intentional or not, they both knew it was too late for her to run. The person, _killer,_ knew she was already there. He'd reached the bend and turned the corner; he'd seen her. In fact, they're probably hoping she ran, because what's more fun than chasing prey, knowing they're going to die no matter what?

She was dead.

The woman seemed to know that, too, because she shifted nervously waiting for him to reach her. She had a plan in mind, if the calm and collected face she'd put on said anything.

And _finally_, the killer stopped, only a couple feet from her. He was tall, easily looming over her. Red pants and a brown jacket, both covered with dried on _blood._ He had black hair and bandages covering his body, only adding to his terrifying look. This person, if they were even _human_, was a predator. A feral beast, who gets a thrill from chasing prey and watching they struggle for their life. Untamable, unstoppable, and definitely unforgettable.

It also helped that he was holding a giant scythe, which reflected the dimming sunlight when it hit the right angle. What kind of killer uses a _scythe_ in this day and age?! It looked like something the grim reaper would be holding, though that may not be far off its mark. No matter who was wielding it, the scythe brought death.

"Ohhhh?" The killer finally spoke, looking all too amused the woman decided not to run. The man felt shivers race up his spine just from hearing the voice. It was the same one from earlier that had prompted his decision to hide. Apparently, he'd made the right choice. "You're not gonna run?"

The killer leaned down so he was right in her face, and the man could tell the woman's mask, what's keeping her from running away screaming, was about to crack.

The woman seemed to realize this too, and quickly calmed herself. "You- You're the Back-Alley Murderer, aren't you?"

He'd heard of the Back-Alley Murderer. The news reports wouldn't stop speaking about the killer who traveled around to random cities, leaving a pile of destruction in his wake. He'd managed to avoid the police after so long, and seemed to have no pattern as to where he'd be next. Every time somebody is killed by him, the surrounding areas are warned and told to stay safe in whatever way possible.

Had he missed the latest warning? Or was it just never said, because this was his first (found) victim since he'd come here? The man guessed it was the second choice.

The Back-Alley Murderer was one of the most wanted people in America, and police everywhere were looking for him. There was a reward for any _information_ about him sent out by the police, because engaging with the killer was much too dangerous, and it was obvious to see what the results of it would be.

(The man realized that, if he lived, he could get a lot of money pretty quickly. If he lived.)

The man snapped out of his thoughts only to hear the killer grunt an answer, as if it wouldn't matter. (He supposed it didn't.)

The woman took a step forward, and then another. She slowly reached a hand up to his chest, pausing after she'd rested a hand on his jacket. Only then did the man realize that her short dress was intentionally being made to look even shorter, exposing more skin.

Oh_ shoot._ This girl's gonna try to seduce the killer.

The killer stood still, watching her carefully, never moving, but never resisting, like waiting for prey to act on their fear and bolt when they see a chance.

"You know, I'd heard a _lot_ about you on the news~ I'm a _big fan_, you see~! And I'd _love _a chance to get to know you better~!"

Still, the killer didn't react. It was definitely off-putting, how he wouldn't move, only follow her movements with his eyes, watching her every move. The man watched the killers eyes, trying to see where he's looking, and the man only just noticed that.. Does the killer have two different colored eyes? What's that called? Heterochromia? One was a dark grey, or maybe even black, but the other was a bright gold, gleaming in the sunlight.

The woman started to slide her hands down to the killer's pants, having to move over a rather large and _new_, from the looks of it, splotch of blood. To the woman's credit, she didn't so much as flinch, which would've surely led to her death.

But, apparently that was a bad idea, or maybe the killer had finally had enough of watching her, but he grabbed her hands with his own, just as bandages as his face, in a gentle hold. The woman seemed equally confused by the gentle hold as the man behind the dumpster was, because holy _crap_, was he actually going for it?! Then again, not many people would just refuse a blatant offer like that, even if it was out of genuine fear for their life.

But the killer only dropped them, leaving them to dangle against the woman's side. He waited a moment, staring at his own hands for a moment, then glanced up to her face.

And then he grinned.

Not a friendly grin, mind you. No, this was the face of a killer about to chase their prey. The killer didn't seem to care about her offer, instead finding joy out of her carefully blank face, which was on the edge of cracking. And once it cracked, there was no stopping it.

"Oooh? You're a fan?" Again, his voice sent shivers up the man's spine. "Then you should feel honored to become my prey!" The killer let out a raspy, almost inhumane, laugh that echoed throughout the whole alley.

The only thing the man could think of was _'Run run run run run faster faster don't let him __**catch you**__-'_

But neither of them moved. The killer's laugh died down quick enough, despite the adrenaline continued running through his veins, telling him that he's in **danger.** Instead, the killer held up a hand, his palm open, while the other one gripped his scythe even tighter. He was preparing to run. The futile chase was about to start.

"You know, I always love meeting a fan, so I'll give you 5 seconds instead of 3." The killer maliciously grinned, then lowered one of the fingers.

The woman seemed to catch onto what was happening quickly, which was good, because she had almost a slight chance of getting away, if something unexpected happened. Her face contorted into horror as she bolted down the alley, her shoes making loud clacking sounds every step she takes. Soon enough, she was out of sight from the man, who had only a narrow view from behind the dumpster.

The killer waited patiently, dropping each finger dutifully. His grin only grew as the clock ticked down, and when it reached zero, when his hand balled into a fist, he gripped the other end of the scythe with his hand and lunged forward to chase his prey.

It must have been only moments later when the killer caught up to the lady, because he heard her screams almost immediately after he left. He couldn't see what was happening, but he could hear every word through the echoes of the alleyway.

"If you were really my fan, why'd you run away?" The killer was questioning the woman before he killed her.

The woman's mask was no longer in place, having fallen off at the precise moment he lowered his first finger, and there was no salvaging it. Her voice cracked, trying to get out of the terrible situation. Trying to live. "I'm sorry! I didn't want to die!"

"You know, I hate liars."

After that, the man behind the dumpster heard the killer laugh again, and could almost hear the squelch of the woman's flesh being torn apart. His stomach churned uneasily, but he was quickly distracted by the appearance of somebody else.

It was another girl, one who couldn't have been much older than 15 at the most. Her blonde hair stood out in the dimming sunlight, which is how he'd even seen she was there in the first place. He certainly hadn't heard her appear.

The man was tempted to get out of his hiding spot, to tell the girl that she needs to _leave_ before the killer comes back, but.. He'll admit it. He's scared. Terrified. His body _won't move._ If he gets out of his spot, they'll _both die._ If he can live, he can call the police and provide information about the Back-Alley Murderer, and then they'll be able to catch him more easily in the future.

In the end, the man didn't move, and he didn't make a sound. The girl looked around a bit, seemingly unaware that there had been a murder just around the corner. That the killer was most likely going to come back. Did she not feel the tension in the air?! Come on, girl, _hide!_

She didn't.

And the man knew the exact moment it was too late. The girl looked down the alley—the way the killer had gone—and stared at something moving. The man heard footsteps, not even trying to be quiet, to gain the element of surprise. There was no need. The girl was done for.

He didn't know what kind of plan the girl had in mind, but she didn't try to run either. She continued staring, waiting for the killer to get closer. The man could _feel_ his sadistic grin etched onto his face from his latest victim, only mere seconds ago. The girl wasn't planning to _seduce him_, was she? She can't be that old-

The killer stopped only a couple feet away from her, just like he did for the other woman. God- that woman was _dead_ now. He felt sick thinking about it. But still, he watched the girl interact with the killer. He knew he should look away, but _his body wouldn't move._

The situation was an almost exact replica of what had just happened with the older woman. The girl was somehow achieving a perfect blank mask, even in the presence of a murderer. Or did she not know-? How could she not know?! His clothes were stained with fresh blotches of red, not to mention the scythe still in his hand.

"You know, I'm a big fan of yours," the girl murmurs, an almost exact replica of the woman before her. Had she _seen_ it?! Why hadn't she run away-

The killer doesn't move, though he adopts a very confused expression on his face, his malicious grin dropping instantly. _"Huh?"_

Well, that was more of an expression than the woman had gotten.

The girl slowly raises a hand to the killer's chest, touching his newly-bloodied jacket around the same place the woman had. Again, the killer didn't move, only watching the girl with the same expression as earlier.. Except not. He was also _confused._ But still watching her every move, predator to prey.

The girl slides her hand up against his chest, instead of down like the woman had. Maybe she figures that was the problem, and can avoid it by going up. (God, this was such a weird topic-)

That must've been the right choice, because the Back-Alley Murderer doesn't try to stop her hand from reaching higher on his chest, slowly tracing against his jacket. And then she stops it, right around where his heart must be. She pauses for a moment, probably just listening to the (most likely) erratic beats that make up this killer's life. The murderer doesn't do anything but watch, and the even the man behind the dumpster thinks this has been going on too long. Why hasn't he killed her yet?! Is he trying to give her false hope?!

And then the girl grabs a fistful of the Back-Alley Murderer's jacket, and the man feel his heart skip like seven beats. _('WHAT IS SHE DOING-?!')_ The killer seemed to be taken off guard as much as he was, and the man quickly wonders if she's going in for an attack.

The girl pulls down, and the man is sure the killer can withstand her small amount of strength, but he bends with her grip anyways, most likely caught off guard, judging from his surprised expression.

And the girl plants a kiss on his cheek.

_('hoLY CRAP WHAT IS THIS GIRL __**DOING-**__')_

But to the man's surprise, the killer instantly backs up and turns away. He looks angry, and rightfully so. That girl is dead. What was she _thinking-_

"What the hell, ya damn brat!" The killer grips his scythe with both hands, obviously preparing to kill the kid. There was no getting out of this now. She was a goner.

The girl only gave out a small smile in return, seemingly unconcerned about the killer's sudden rage. "I'll always be your biggest fan, Zack."

.. Zack? Was that the killer's name? How does.. This girl know it?

The Back-Alley Murderer freezes in his rage, and his face seems to turn pink, even through his bandages. Could it be.. That.. he wasn't angry? Was.. it possible that... Was the Back-Alley Murderer _embarrassed?!_

"Wha- What's this for?!"

The girl takes a step closer and leans in, cornering the killer against the brick wall behind him. "I'm seducing you."

"_Huuuuuuuh?!"_ The killer squints at the girl in confusion and exasperation, placing his hands on his hips while still holding his scythe. (God that girl wasn't even _scared_, was she?) "Ya don't need to seduce me. I've been seduced for a while now, ya know."

_(WAIT, WHAT. WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN. **W H A T.**)_

The girl only smiled again, planting another small kiss to his cheek. "I love you, Zack."

She seemed so _genuine_ with her confession that the man couldn't help but believe it. Holy crap—this girl is actually serious. She's in love with the Back-Alley Murderer. _Holy crap._ And if the man knew what he was seeing (he's half positive he's delusional at this point), then-

".. Love ya too, Ray."

He was right. The killer was in love with her too. God—they were _together._ The girl—Ray—and the killer—Zack—they're important to each other. Probably even partners in crime. (Dang, and he couldn't even get a _date.)_

(He didn't even want to start thinking whether this was a healthy relationship or not. There's.. too many things wrong at first glance to list. Dear god. But both of them seem happy, so they'll probably be alright. If not, there's nothing he can do about it. Nothing he _wants_ to do about it.)

Zack and Ray, huh? The man behind the dumpster sighed quietly as he watched the duo hold each other's hand and walk back into deeper parts of the alleyway, even with the sun setting soon. He didn't bother being scared for the girl's health anymore. She was perfectly safe, with the best bodyguard one could ask for.

(He realizes that that girl has probably already killed people.)

After waiting another ten minutes, at least, the man finally started to crawl out of the small hole he'd crammed himself into. God, _he survived. He __**lived.**_

And he had so much information he could give to the police.

The man walked home with many thoughts running through his mind, thinking about everything that had happened in the last half an hour. It had felt like an _eternity_, but he'd only been there for a small while. Everything had happened so fast.

He was still probably going to be sick from knowing that woman got murdered without a second glance, but.. He'd seen another side to the infamous killer, the Back-Alley Murderer. He'd seen the killer in action, chasing and killing somebody, but he'd also seen him in love. A side that nobody else has probably even seen, or even thought of. Him and that girl—Ray—were an inseparable pair. That much was certain. They didn't doubt each other; they had absolute trust. He'd only watched them for a few moments, and the man had understood that instantly.

A few minutes later, he reached his house, took his shoes off, and immediately went to bed. He was oddly exhausted. (Probably from the amount of adrenaline that had been coursing through his body, and the fact that he saw the infamous Back-Alley Murderer in action.)

In the end, he never called the police.

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**Soooooo, did you like it? I told you it was just trash. I warned u.**

**Anyways, let me know what you thought! I had fun writing this garbage, so I hope that people had fun reading it too.**

**This is just pure crack why do you guys actually click on this, much less read it.**


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